Hobbies
by Ice Queen1
Summary: Wes is acting really weird. Showing up late with bruises and unexplained knowledge of security systems and refuses to tell Travis. Then the redhead shows up. What the hell? Who ARE these people?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Complete and total crackfic! That I thought up while watching Avengers for the fifth time and finally recognizing Warren Kole as the unnamed tech guy on the carrier that Robin from How I Met Your Mother was talking to. Just go with it. :-D Just friendship, no slash.

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Wes was never late. Never. It just wasn't in his nature. Obscenely early, that was his normal MO. But lately, he was turning up at all sorts of bizarre times, and like it wasn't anything unusual. The Captain didn't seem to notice, and neither did anyone else. Whenever Travis asked where his partner was, or where he'd been, he would act like Travis hadn't said anything at all.

It was driving him NUTS.

Travis wasn't big on secrets. He liked to know what people were doing, what fun thing they'd found, or even just what was going on at home. Wes called it prying. Travis called it being interested in his fellow man beyond what they saw at work. He didn't even really like to keep secrets himself. He liked to tell people about his latest date, or what hobby he'd picked up – even a sweet ride he'd managed to take on their limited off time on his bike up the coast. Something. Anything to drive a conversation.

But Wes wouldn't budge. He was more tight lipped about whatever off work hobby he'd found than he was at their counseling sessions.

And then the second cell phone appeared.

At first, Travis wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a very plain, very basic flip phone, matte black, and with almost no texting capabilities. It didn't even look like he could check the internet with it. And Wes never, ever set down. He wouldn't let anyone anywhere near that phone, and he wouldn't give Travis the number. No matter how many times he asked, or how he pleaded, Wes refused to even acknowledge the phone in his presence. But when that thing did go off, Wes was _gone_. No explanation, just a clipped, short exchange with the captain and then POOF. Off to parts unknown.

Then came the bizarre injuries. A black eye, a scratch, a cut, a couple bruises, a split lip…sometimes Wes would be moving tenderly for weeks from bruised ribs and hairline fractures. Again, it was like no one noticed but Travis. No one seemed to see all the extra injuries that Wes brought in on his off hours with no explanation.

Another bizarre and inexplicable thing was Wes sudden knowledge of computers. He could back trace calls, hack the DMV, and get past security codes as if they were nothing. And it was like he was _expecting_ technology to be faster than it was. When something took a minute instead of ten seconds, Wes would complain about how slow the computers were, and why did no one else notice the lag in the processing speed?

Travis didn't even know Wes _liked_ computers.

The official last straw was the redhead. Short, curvy in just the right places, short red hair and spectacular lips. And not even remotely interested in anyone but Wes.

"Agent Mitchell, we've been trying to call you," she said, striding through the bullpen as if she owned the place. And for all Travis cared, she could own it.

"Hi, my name is Travis –" the redhead blew right past him as if he didn't even exist and stopped right beside Wes.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Wes hissed, abruptly standing as the redhead approached. "Couldn't they send someone a little less…noticeable? I _work_ here! And I'd like to _keep_ working here."

The redhead seemed nonplussed. "You work for _us_, Agent. And the Director says that he needs you to come in this weekend – we need all hands on deck."

Wes sighed, and Travis simply stared at the exchange. What the hell was going on? Who would EVER complain about having to go work with this woman? Who cared what she even wanted from him? "You didn't even know my name until recently, so I don't really believe you need me specifically all that badly."

"Well, after that incident in New York, we don't exactly have a lot of people to choose from. I could always send Stark or Rogers to come get you if it'll make you feel better. Maybe a little more important?" the redhead smirked, folding her arms across her chest. "I'm sure they'll be much less subtle."

"I would've preferred Barton since no one would recognize him, but fine. I see your point. Are you _sure_ you need all of us? What could possibly be wrong that the science wonder twins Stark and Banner can't fix?"

The redhead shrugged. "It's not so much fix as they need operators. You know how many people we need in order to run that platform. And you know Stark – if it's not exciting…"

"It's not worth his time. Dammit," Wes grumbled, but reluctantly grabbed his jacket and put back his detective shield. "I had plans, you know."

"Of course we know. We know everything," the redhead said, smiling now that she'd obviously gotten her way.

"Yeah, yeah, goddamn Big Brother initiative. It would've made more sense considering the tabs you keep on people," Wes said, sighing. "I appreciate that you have no private lives, but why can't we 'background people', as Fury likes to call us, have some privacy?"

The woman looked around. "No one seems to notice us now, do they? How much more privacy do you want?"

Wes frowned. "You're missing the point, Romanov."

"Am I?" she said sweetly.

Suddenly Wes looked slightly terrified. "I hate it when you use that tone of voice. It always makes me feel like I'm about to be strangled with my own entrails."

"Keep protesting and you just might."

Wes threw his hands up in mock surrender. Except maybe a little less 'mock'. "Who's arguing? I'm certainly not. Look at me, willingly going along with you to parts unknown and giving up my hard earned weekend."

Wes turned to Travis for the first time in this entire exchange. "If I'm not back by Monday, send out a search party, okay?"

Travis gaped, open mouthed, at his partner for a second before nodding. "Yeah…yeah, man. Sure thing. Where are you going?"

Wes rolled his eyes. "I have no idea. They like their secrets."

"Come on, Agent Mitchell. We've got things to do!" Romanov said, already at the door, waiting and tapping her foot impatiently.

"You have any others like her?" Travis asked in a stage whisper.

"Natasha Romanov is one of a kind, Travis. And no, I would never, ever introduce you two." He jogged after the redhead, mouthing "search party" back at Travis before the Romanov pulled him through the door by his collar.

"What the hell was that about?" one of the patrolman asked. "Was that his new girlfriend?"

"I have no idea…" Travis shook his head. "But he is one lucky sonofabitch if that's what's been causing all his bruises."

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So. Thoughts? Comments welcome, I'm just trying to work through some nervous energy after getting too much sleep last night and a bad case of writer's block. Let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

It was several weeks later when the second incident occurred. They were at therapy, of all places, because really, where else would they be? The two of them seemed to spend an unprecedented amount of time sitting in a circle. Sharing their feelings.

Well, that last part wasn't necessarily true. Wes still managed to say absolutely nothing of importance. It was like a super power.

This time, they sent a much less…noticeable…errand boy. Travis tried to hide his disappointment that Natasha hadn't come back.

They were sitting, Wes ignoring the question and staring out the window at the gorgeous LA weather they were currently enjoying, or would be if they were stuck in counseling, when the door to the room creaked open. A shaggy, salt and peppered head poked in, and smiled somewhat embarrassed.

Everyone's head turned towards the disruption, staring curiously at the newcomer. Perhaps a late student?

Nope. The man entered, and the nerd persona that Travis could already pick out was complete – button down shirt that looked like it had seen better days, glasses, loafers, and slacks that looked just as rough as the shirt…except strangely about eight sizes too big and cinched around the waist.

"Uh, hi," the man said, giving a small wave. "I don't mean to interrupt, but…"

"No! By all means!" Wes said, surprising everyone as he jumped to his feet to go and greet the other man. "Mr. Bann-Bruce," Wes amended, seeing the older man cringe at the use of his last name. Part of it, anyway. Actually, despite the gray bits of hair near his temple, the man didn't actually look all that old. Maybe he just had a high stress life.

"Wes, would you like to introduce your friend?" Dr. Ryan asked, smiling pleasantly and gesturing the man…Bruce…to come and join the sacred circle. One of the other women was smiling too, a dreamy little look on her face until her husband elbowed her.

Damn. Maybe it really was the age of the nerds.

Travis couldn't help the puzzlement at the look of overt jubilant glee on Wes's face though.

"Please, tell me we're going somewhere. You need something. Anything. A babysitter. House sitter. Test subject," Wes said, smiling but with a sense of urgency.

"What? Test subject? What the hell does Tony have you _do_ when he calls you in?" Bruce said, shaking his head. "And sorry, I would've called, but the Other Guy kinda smashed my last one when I left it in my pocket."

"Does it matter? Get me out of here. Pull your super secret awesome card that overrides all authority and let's go," Wes said, gesturing towards the door.

"Wes! Introduce us!" Travis demanded, standing from his own seat. "Hey, man! Nice to meet you. I'm Travis Marks. Wes's actual partner," he said, holding his hand out to greet Bruce.

Bruce smiled, strained but pleasant enough. "Nice to meet you."

"And you are…?" Travis prompted.

"I already told you, Travis. This is Bruce. Bruce, Travis. Can we go now?" Wes said, gesturing to the door again.

"Actually, the Captain was wondering if you could come by later," Bruce said, again looking apologetic.

"Captain? As in Captain Rogers?" Wes asked, doubtfully raising an eyebrow. "What does he need me for?"

Bruce chuckled. "He needs someone to dumb down a couple of the systems Tony is working on for him. You know how Tony gets, prattling on as if everyone in the room has seven degrees and knows exactly what he's talking about and then gets cranky when we make him repeat himself."

Wes shook his head. "Wait, why can't you explain? You speak Tony better than most of us."

"Tony has me helping him out on some sort of upgrade for his suit that he doesn't feel like explaining so much with words as with finger snaps and 'you, do this'. And I think Steve feels self conscious asking me or anyone else in the Tower to help out," Bruce said.

Wes rolled his eyes and put his hands on his hips. "So I _don't_ get to be bailed out from therapy?"

Bruce glanced back at the group and smiled nervously when a couple of the women surreptitiously smiled and made claw motions with their hands. "Um…what kind of therapy is this, anyway?"

"Couples counseling," Travis supplied, grinning at the irritated look Wes shot him. "What do you need Wes for again? Who's this 'Captain' person? We already have one of our own."

"It's classified," Wes snapped.

"Since when?" Travis said.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Actually, Agent…Wes…is right. It's classified. Wish we could explain…maybe I'll see if the Director is recruiting?" Bruce glanced at Wes who shook his head.

"I see enough of him already," Wes said. "No dice. But why don't you stay and join us? I know how much you _love_ therapy."

Bruce shook his head and waved Wes off. "No, I'm good, getting randomly electrocuted by a genius- billionaire-playboy- philanthropist because he gets bored. Good practice, you know? Well, I'll let you get back to it. The Captain is probably going to need you this afternoon, if that's ok?"

"Why can't it be _now_?" Wes whined, sounding every inch a two year old.

"Because apparently you need therapy just as bad as I do," Bruce said, sympathetically patting his arm, but smirking all the same. "We'll send someone to pick you up. Nice meeting you, Travis," Bruce said, shaking Travis's hand before slipping out the door.

"What the hell was all that about?" Travis asked.

"None of your business, that's what. I can have hobbies that don't include you," Wes snapped, irritably stalking back over to his chair and dropping into it with all the grace of a dejected teenager who was told he couldn't attend a party.

"Want to tell us who that was?" Dr. Ryan asked.

"Did I introduce you?" Wes replied.

"No, that's why I'm asking," the Brit said.

"Then obviously I _don't_ want to tell you," Wes growled. "It has nothing to do with any of this."

The group stared at Wes, who glared back. "Well?" he snapped. "Get on with it! Apparently I _do_ have all day."

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So…thoughts? Comments? Reactions? I figure eventually he'll meet all the Avengers, and Travis WILL figure out who he's hanging out with as a second job, but I have to stick with lower key people up front so it's not too obvious. Like Tony is probably gonna be last, because EVERYONE recognizes him. Also, still not slash. And no, I'm not changing it. There's like a dozen slash stories for every non, so I'm sticking to my little corner. So nyah! :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Someone asked why I picked Common Law and the Avengers. Warren Kole, the guy who plays Wes, is a background Helicarrier tech on the bridge, talking to Agent Hill a few times. I decided to run with it. Also "Valiant" is the name of the Helicarrier in Doctor Who and Torchwood, so I stole it. Without shame. Read and review!

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Travis was not happy. It was another few weeks before the next incident, and this time, he was bound and determined to get some answers.

Of course, it wasn't like ge set out to do that. He actually went to the firing range to blow off steam after a recent case and Wes's usual evasion of his questions.

This last weekend, he'd come back with a shit eating grin that Travis would normally attribute to him getting laid. But this was Wes – not himself. He refused to say why he was in such a good mood, but was whistling obnoxiously wherever he went. All he would allude to was he got some pointers from someone, and he managed to save the world. Or, at least had a hand in it.

"God, Wes, you make it sound like you're Batman on the weekends," Travis grumbled. He paused, eyeing his partner suspiciously. "You're not, are you? I mean, I know I told you that you needed some hobbies, but dressing up as a masked vigilante wasn't what I had in mind."

"I'm not Batman," Wes dismissed, grin unfading. "Not quite, anyway."

Even after much badgering, Wes remained as tight lipped as ever. So, since his partner was proving slightly more than irritating, Travis headed for the local firing range, imagining Wes's face on the target. Or, that was in the intention anyway. Apparently, the source of his irritation had the same idea.

As Travis signed in at the range boss's table and picked up his ammunition, he could hear people talking…well, arguing was more like it. And he recognized at least one voice. No gunfire though – and he hadn't heard any since he signed in. He glanced down the firing range and saw Wes talking to another man, dressed sort of like Travis usually did – leather jacket with a hoodie poking out the top, despite the warm weather, jeans, and sunglasses. Not too abnormal. His clothes weren't what set him apart though. It was his weapon of choice. He didn't have a gun – he had a bow and arrow. A freaking _bow _and _arrow_.

Wes was arguing about it with the man.

"Look, I told you, this is a _gun_ range, not an _archery_ range, you're not even supposed to have those on you. Do you even _own_ a gun?" Wes said.

Travis glanced around. There wasn't anyone else at the range, strangely enough. Maybe if Wes didn't notice him, he could eavesdrop and figure out if this was another one the wackos that were randomly appearing in Wes's life – like that redhead and the nerd.

"Guns are Tasha's thing. Besides, you said you wanted to improve your accuracy, right? Bow and arrow are the best way to do that," the man argued back. Travis could hear the smirk in his voice from back here, and grinned along with him.

"I'm not Robin Hood, smartass. I may not carry a weapon aboard the _Valiant_, but I do carry one on the force. And it's not an archaeic piece of weaponry from the 16th century."

"Hey, I took out half a helicarrier with this archaeic piece of weaponry, thank you," the man retorted. "Think about that."

"You were also under mind control from an alien parading around as a God, Barton, but do you see me nitpicking?" Wes shot back.

_Barton_, Travis thought. He'd heard Wes mention that name before…when Romanov first showed up.

"Hey! Alien mind control had nothing to do with my skill," Barton snapped. "You wanna put your money where your mouth is, Extra?"

Wes held his hand up in surrender. "Nope. Not with someone with the nickname 'Hawkeye'."

"Good. Then here," Barton held out the bow. "Try it."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "You're gonna let me touch that? I seem to recall some not so vague death threats in Stark's general direction if someone ever touched it again."

"That's' Stark, and he broke it last time doing tests on it," Barton said. "Take it."

"I feel like this is a trap," Wes said, hesitantly reaching for the bow.

"It's not a trap, stop being a wimp!" Barton shoved it into Wes hands, who held it like it was a cross between porcelain or about to bite him. Possibly explode. "It's not going to break on you! Hold it like you mean it! Didn't you ever have an archery class? Play cowboys and indians when you were younger?"

Wes raised an eyebrow. "No. My home life was…a little different. If I do this, are you going to help with my gun quals, or not?"

Barton threw his hands up. "YES! Fine, I'll teach you the barbarian way. Try to give you a little culture, a little art appreciation, and you slap me in the face with it."

"Do you even _know_ how to use a gun?" Wes asked suspiciously.

Barton looked affronted. "You doubt my abilities?"

"As Legolas, no. As Dirty Harry…I'm beginning to."

"Them's fighting words. Fine, civilian. Give me your gun." Barton held out his hand.

"Let's see it," Wes challenged, handing over his own gun.

Barton had barely put his fingers around it when he lifted it and rapid fired all fifteen rounds into the target seventy yards away without even looking. The target's center mass exploded as all fifteen rounds blew out the quarter sized bullseye.

_Who the hell_ is_ this guy_? Travis wondered. _And what the hell does Wes _do _on his days off when he meets these people?_

Wes's jaw dropped, but there was a smile on his face as he laughed. "Hah! I so win!"

Barton frowned, looking back at the target. "What the hell do you mean, you win?" There was a pause. "Who did you bet with, Mitchell?"

Wes smiled broadly. "Everyone."

"_What_ did you bet?" Barton growled.

"That I could get you to give me your bow," Wes said. "And live to tell the tale. Stark said you wouldn't even let me touch it. I bet I could do it cause you would never suspect a random helicarrier tech."

_A heli-what?_

Barton's gun immediately swung towards Wes, and Travis's hand immediately went to his own holstered weapon, but frowned when Wes started to laugh. "You have no more bullets, Clint! What are you going to do? Throw it at me?"

Wes was already ducking as Barton threw the now useless gun at him and took off down the gun range, bow clenched tightly in his hands.

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Barton shouted, bolting off after him.

"STILL WINNING!" Wes shouted back, before rounding the corner and out of sight.

Travis stood, still unnoticed further down range, in the opposite direction of where the other two were running. Who the hell _were_ these people? And why did Wes seem to be able to have more fun with them then he _ever_ did with Travis?

The thought hurt, just a bit. But now he was bound and determined that he was going to find out about Wes's extracurriculars. He now had several names to work with, something called the _Valiant_, Hawkeye, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanov, and probably a couple more names. He _would_ find out, one way or another.

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So. Clint made his appearance. I don't know that much about him based on the movies, so I had to go with this. And I know Wes seems a little out of sorts with it, since he doesn't seem the prankster type, but I'll bring up this specific scenario later on in the story, like when he meets Tony. Thoughts and comments welcome!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Just got back from watching the Amazing Spiderman, and Spidey might be making an appearance in this, even minorly. 'Cause he does become part of the Avengers eventually…and I can totally see the Science Twins Bruce and Tony trying to adopt him….:-)

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"Attention all units, we're getting reports of a five-zero-seven down on 49th. Any takers?"

Travis reached for the radio and Wes raised an eyebrow. "You really want to answer that?"

"I'm _bored_, man. Maybe it'll be something interesting," Travis whined. "We've been sitting around waiting for something to happen, our reliefs are here…why not go see who's new in the neighborhood?"

Wes shrugged. "Go ahead. But if it's that stupid dancing pizza guy again, you're on your own."

"You don't like Petey Pizza? Now that's just un-American," Travis said, picketing dispatch. "Dispatch, this is Marks and Mitchell. We're enroute to the five-zero-seven. You have anything else to tell us 'bout it?"

"Just that it's some weirdo with long hair yelling about being the God of Thunder to the sky. It's a possible three-nine-zero."

"Seriously, some dude claiming to be the God of Thunder? I thought the crazies at least waited for nightfall before they came out of the woodwork."

Wes snatched the radio out of Travis's hand. "Dispatch, did they say 'God of Thunder' or is he claiming to be 'Thor' specifically?"

"Thor. How'd you know?"

Wes ignored dispatch and gunned the engine, pulling a u-ey in the middle of traffic. "Son of a bitch…"

"Do we know a Thor? Why do we know a crazy person claiming to be Thor in the middle of town?"

"_We_ don't. I think I do though."

"Since _when_?" Travis demanded, holding on to the dash and the "oh shit" handle for dear life as Wes weaved in an out of downtown LA traffic. "Is this another one of those wacko friends of yours that you refuse to talk about?"

"Shut up, Travis," Wes snapped, keeping his eyes on the road. Surprisingly, they were making good time despite the amount of cars and pedestrians. Flashing lights and sirens seemed to help.

"No!" Travis protested. "You have all these weird, unexplained absences, you come back looking beaten half to hell or dead exhausted, there's weirdos showing up at the precinct and therapy, and they never say who they are or what they want you for, and they almost _always_ call you _agent_, not _detective_. So who the hell is this guy?"

Wes snapped back. "I volunteer at a mental institution, all right?"

Travis stared at him open-mouthed. "Do I seriously have _moron_ stamped across my forehead? Do you _really _expect me to believe that?"

"It doesn't matter, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you."

"Try me!"

Wes didn't answer, but instead slid easily into a parking space on the side of the road, somehow managing a parallel parking job without the parallel parking part of it.

"I'll explain later!" Wes said, and hopped out of the car.

"Like hell you will! Explain now!" Travis demanded, jumping out of his side and almost running after Wes's long strides.

Wes was back to ignoring him, focusing on the man standing on the street corner, hollering at the sky.

"I know you can hear me!" the man shouted, waving his hand in the air as if cursing the actual heavens.

Travis slowed when he actually got a good look at the man. "Holy…" he muttered under his breath. The man had to be at least six three, possibly more, but maybe he just looked bigger 'cause he was built like fricking train. His arms were the same size as Travis's _head_. His shoulders looked like he would be lucky to fit in an average sized car. Blonde hair down to his shoulders and blue eyes made it no wonder he thought he was a Norse god. Judging from the women who were watching, they believed it too.

Despite the crazy shouting at the sky and referring to it as 'Stark'.

And Wes didn't seem to mind at all that the crazy lost Norse god could crush him like a tin can when he jogged up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Good _God_, Wes's hands looked tiny when they could barely span the man's bicep.

"Hey!" Wes said, getting the man's attention. "What the hell is going on?"

The blonde behemoth actually had to look down at Wes, but when he did, his face suddenly lit up. "Ah! Wesley! Pleasure to see you here! What brings you to the great city of Los Angeles?"

Sweet baby Jesus, even the guy's _voice_ sounded like a god. And he pronounced Los Angeles strangely, like it wasn't something he'd heard spoken aloud before, merely seen the spelling.

"I _work_ here, for the millionth time. I know a job sounds strange to you, but honestly, I've told all of you several times that my work for you is a _hobby_, not what pays the bills," Wes fumed, folding his arms across his chest, looking mildly irritated. "Now what the hell are you doing? Didn't we cover _low profile_? It means _not_ standing in the middle of the sidewalk yelling at the sky claiming to be a god."

The blonde man had the sense to look chastised. "Ah. Yes. I apologize, Wesley. I did not mean to offend. But I was hoping to reach Stark…" he trailed off, looking sheepish, which just looked wrong on a man who looked like he could crush a Mack truck with his pinky.

"Where's your phone?" Wes demanded. "It's a lot more effective than just hoping he can hear you from the _Valiant._"

The blonde scowled. "I was not expecting this trip. Stark was attempting to use Mjolnir as a power source for one of his new creations. I think perhaps he activated its ability to transport without meaning to."

Wes unfolded his arms. "Wait. You can use Mjolnir to teleport? I thought it could only control the weather."

The man shook his head. "No. But it can be used to replicate the effects of the Bifrost if one is skilled enough."

Wes shook his head, running his hand through his own hair. "God, and when as Stark even _not _taken those words as a personal challenge? Does anyone know what he was doing?"

The larger man…hell, Travis was just going to call him Thor, because damn if he didn't look the part, nodded.

"Doctor Banner was with him at the time of the incident, and if I remember correctly, was arguing rather forcefully at the time."

Wes heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh good. So someone with a brain knows what might've happened. Give me a sec, would you?" Wes pulled out his phone – not his normal one, but that super secret basic flip phone that seemed to be a life line lately – and dialed a single digit.

_Speed dial_, Travis thought idly. He was still standing several feet away, watching the whole exchange in awe.

Wes turned away from Thor for a moment, talking into the phone so quietly Travis couldn't hear him above the traffic. Then suddenly he was shouting loud enough even Thor winced.

"STARK! What have I told you about screwing around in my city? You can go anywhere in the world, but stay the hell out of LA! Low profile means _you stay out_! And yes, that includes not sending wayward Norse gods of legend into the middle of downtown traffic! Yes, I found him, and yes, he's fine! _However_, he will need a lift back to the _Valiant _because I'm not working this weekend, and _no_ you will not change my mind, and Bruce, tell Pepper what Stark has been up to!"

Travis was half paying attention to the conversation, and half still watching Thor as he stepped closer. He was within an arm's reach now, and he couldn't help but crane his neck up to look at the man, who smiled cheerfully.

"You must be Travis," the large man said, holding out his hand.

Travis didn't even notice, but stared open-mouthed at the man. "Wow. You're tall."

The man laughed, a great, booming laugh that probably shook the walls of his house. Travis was surprised it didn't set off the nearby car alarms. "You should meet our friend Bruce."

Travis felt like he was eight years old-looking up at the man. "I think I have. He's not that big."

"You should see him in a bad mood," Thor said, just as Wes suddenly smacked him on the arm.

"_Thor_!" Wes snapped. "Do you even speak the same English? What did we tell you about _confidential_ information? It means no talking about it with people not in the initiative!"

Thor? Seriously? His name was really _Thor_?

Thor again looked thoroughly chastised. "I'm still not at ease with the idea of having to hide our identities. On Asgard…"

"SHUT UP!" Wes shouted. "_CONFIDENTIAL _now officially means _don't speak of it, **ever**_."

The large man's mouth snapped shut, and Travis realized he was actually leaning away from Wes himself. Hmm. Who would've guessed someone of Wes's slight build would seem scarier than a muscle-bound lunatic who yelled at the sky?

Wes took a deep breath, exhaling slowly like he did a thousand times a day with Travis when the older man started to irritate him. "Stark is sending the Captain to come and get you. Stay here. Do not talk to anyone. Do not mention your name. Do not do _anything_ conspicuous. Do you understand?" he said, slowly, carefully, enunciating each word deliberately.

Thor smiled. "Thank you for your assistance, Wesley. Do not think I will forget this favor," he said. He took a step forwards, and Wes recognized what he was about to do before Travis did. Thor's enormous arms circled Wes, hugging him fiercely and pulling him several inches off the ground, even as Wes yelped in protest.

"Happy to help. Now put me down, before even more people notice," Wes demanded. He looked decidedly less threatening when being squeezed like a teddy bear. An indignant teddy bear. In a really expensive suit.

When he finally put Wes down, Wes was a bright scarlet, tugging uselessly at his now hopelessly wrinkled suit. "You only do that because you know I hate it."

"I do it to show you the camaraderie I feel we share as members of the –"

"WHAT did I _just_ say about the word _confidential_?" Wes snarled. "Stay here, and don't talk to anyone. Rogers should be by in less than thirty minutes, since he was in the city already. Bruce probably warned him. Think you can manage?"

Thor smiled. "Yes, Wesley. I can manage." He turned to Travis. "I hope we meet again under more favorable circumstances. Wesley speaks fondly of you."

"Does he now?" Travis said, smiling.

Wes didn't even bother to say anything, just stormed off towards the car.

As bad as Travis wanted to talk to Thor, there was no doubt in his mind Wes would leave him there, and he jogged after his irate partner.

"Hey!" Travis called, just managing to reach the car at the same time Wes did. "What was that all about?"

Wes stared at him as if he had lost his mind. "What are you talking about?"

"That!" Travis waved his hand at Thor, who was walking over to a park bench shared with a little old lady feeding pigeons. That just looked so out of place, Travis had to shake his head. "What the hell was _that_?"

Wes's face was completely blank. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Dammit, Wes! You said you'd explain!" Travis said, slapping the roof of the car with his open palm. "Who was that?"

"I already told you his name. That's Thor. Honestly, Travis. Learn to listen," Wes said, rolling his eyes as he slid into the driver's seat.

"ARG!" Travis shouted in irritation. He realized he was doing a pretty good impression of Thor, but didn't care. "You are _impossible_!"

"Get in, Travis, or I'm leaving you here," Wes said, flicking the ignition.

Travis vowed right then, no matter what, he was going to figure out what the hell Wes had gotten himself into. And if Wes didn't tell him, he was going to find someone who would.

CLCLCLCLCL

Ok, it may have been longer if I only could write how Thor speaks. It's weird, 'cause I talk like that, but only when I'm yelling at someone. Anyway, four down, and two to go! All those in favor of Peter Parker showing up (it'll probably be something incredibly minor, not a whole chapter to deal with him, since he doesn't leave New York.), say aye! Cap is next, and Tony will be last, obviously. I'm currently debating how I want him and Wes to interact. Thoughts? And no, I'm not going to make this slash, so they're not going to be a couple. Read and review! Let me know if you still like this!


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: This is my least favorite chapter. I love Steve to death, but dammit all, I CANNOT get his character down. Probably because I'm like the Anti-Captain America, but still…read and review? And because so many asked, and very nicely, Peter will be making more than a cameo. I can at least channel sarcastic teenager. :-) Let me know what you guys think. And for all you Captain America fans…I apologize. Profusely…

CLCLCLCL

"Have you seen Wes Mitchell anywhere?"

Travis barely glanced up at the man standing nearby, noting his dated, but immaculate, appearance. His hair was perfectly combed, and nothing he wore was ripped, torn, or faded. The only thing that looked well worn was the 1940's styled motorcycle jacket that looked comfortably broken in. He was tall – very tall, but about as far from intimidating as you could get. He looked like the proverbial boy next door – or a boy scout. Except he also had the bulk of a certain blonde errant Nordic god schizoid in the park.

"Yeah, he's down in the morgue talking to Jonelle though. Anything I can help you with?" Travis asked, going back to his paperwork, which was spread across both desks. They were actually in between cases, with strict orders to finish any outstanding paperwork before they got to handle another one. Well, Travis was. Wes didn't have paperwork issues. No, anal retentive, OCD organizational wizard Wes had all of his case files organized by date, color coded, and with cliff notes. Stupid Wes…

The man smiled, almost shyly. "Actually, he and I were supposed to go to a club tonight, and since I was already in the neighborhood, Tony said I should just stop by instead of meeting him there. Not sure how happy Wes will be about that, but I'm hoping he doesn't mind…"

Travis put his paperwork down, eyeing the man speculatively. "You're going to a club…dressed like _that_…with _Wes_? Am I in the _Twilight Zone_?"

The man's smile faltered. "I'm not good with pop references…and it's a blues club, if that makes a difference."

Travis nodded, thoughtfully gnawing on the end of a pen. "Yeah. Makes sense. Though I thought Wes was strictly jazz. He never mentioned liking anything as soulful as the blues…"

The man shrugged. "He offered to take me while the team was out on the town. He knows I don't like the popular clubs," the man made air quotations around the word 'clubs'. "At least I recognize the music Wes likes. Tony always has the stupid PA system playing AC/DC which just sounds like noise to me."

"AC/DC is _not_ just noise!" Travis protested. "They're one of the most famous bands from the 70's and 80's! They're in like every action movie soundtrack now!"

Again, the man shrugged helplessly. "I sort of missed the 70's and 80's…"

Travis frowned. "How old _are_ you? There's no freaking way you're a 90's baby."

"I didn't get out a lot," the man said. "By the way, my name is Steve. Steve Rogers," the man…Steve…held out his hand in formal greeting.

Travis smiled. "Nice to meet you. Travis Marks," he said, shaking hands, and barely suppressed wince at the strength of Steve's grip.

Steve's face lit up into a broad smile, and Travis just _knew_ he heard some woman in the background sigh dreamily. "You're Wes's partner! He talks about you a lot…usually when complaining about dealing with Tony."

"Um…great?" Travis said, frowning. "How do you know Wes exactly?"

Steve indicated Wes's chair, and when Travis nodded, sat down, leaning back in it. "He's supposed to be our tech guy, but he does a little of everything. I think Tony just likes to mess with him, so every time we're in California we seem to find some reason to call him in, even though he's not a senior member."

"Uh huh…" Travis said, tapping his pen against his lip. "So how'd you guys meet? You frat brothers from law school or something?"

Steve shook his head. "Um…no. Tony knew Wes first, and brought him in. They don't seem to get along very well though, and I think Tony just likes irritating Wes with legal problems, because Tony likes to irritate _everyone_. Actually, Wes says the reason he can tolerate Tony is because of you…" Steve trailed off, as if suddenly realizing that might be an insult.

Travis waved him off. "Don't sweat it. Wes says much worse things to my face."

"Yeah, he said you guys had issues," Steve said cautiously. "And if I remember correctly…Tony said you two were in _couple's_ therapy? Are you? A couple, I mean?"

Travis laughed as the man's face turned a hilarious shade of pink. "No, we're just partners on the force. We got into…an argument…of epic proportions and our Captain decided we needed to go to therapy. And well, the station psychologist couldn't deal with us, and the Captain had just gotten done with therapy with him and his wife and decided that since we fight like a married couple, we were going to be treated like it."

"Oh…" Steve said, frowning. "What were you two fighting about? Wes seems so…quiet. We've never gotten into an argument."

"That's because you're from the 40's," Travis said, gesturing to the man's clothes. Steve looked suddenly nervous, and Travis wasn't entirely sure why, but apparently he needed to explain himself before the guy got any more self conscious. "I mean your personality. Obviously you're not like ninety years old. Wes is very down to Earth, says 'ma'am', and 'sir', and likes everything just so. Likes records, and dressing in suits, jazz, doesn't really do relaxed…"

Steve leaned back. "Huh. He never seems that way around us…usually he's trying to get Barton to help him one up Tony in a prank war, or trying to help Peter out with his homework. And he's nice enough to explain the things I don't get or try and introduce me to the 21st century without acting like a jerk…"

"That doesn't really sound like him. I would say we're talking about two different people, but I don't think there's that many Wesley Mitchells running around this precinct…" Travis said, trying to imagine Wes pulling a prank on _anyone_. But then he remembered him at the firing range with Robin Hood. And even how he acted around that crazy dude in the park yelling at the sky.

How much did he really know about his partner outside of work?

"On a different note, whose motorcycle is out front?" Steve asked, anxious to steer away from the subject of Wes's apparent duality.

"The Harley? That's my baby," Travis said, smiling. "Fixed her up from nothing after I found her buried under a trash heap at a sting operation. She's got a lot of history to her, but she cleans up real nice. You a bike guy too?"

Steve smiled at something they could actually discuss. "Yeah. I've only had mine for a couple of months. 1941 Knucklehead. My dad had a motorcycle when I was really little, and then when I was in the army I had one of the standard military ones. Never really liked cars after that," Steve said. "Something about motorcycles is just something so…"

"Epic? Awesome? Free? Fantastic?" Travis supplied, grinning. "Awesome?"

"You already used that one, Travis," Wes said, from somewhere disturbingly close. He didn't sound too happy either.

"Um, hi Wes…" Travis said, tilting his head back and looking straight up at his partner. The blonde stood just behind his chair, one eyebrow arched, and hands on his hips. "We were just…uh…talking."

"I can see that, Travis," Wes said, patiently. "_What_ were you talking about?"

"Motorcycles," Steve jumped in. "You never said your partner was a Harley guy."

"I'm pretty sure I never mentioned anything about him at all, except that he's an expert in trying my patience," Wes replied. He still didn't take his eyes off Travis, who smiled guiltily. "What were you and the Captain talking about?"

Travis's brow furrowed in confusion. "Captain? Sutton hasn't been out here all afternoon-" Travis suddenly sat bolt upright. "Captain?" he stared at Steve, who smiled nervously, giving an awkward wave.  
"Captain Steve Rogers? You _work_ with him and all those other psychos that keep stopping by?"

Wes's eyes widened in surprise, suddenly shooting daggers at Steve, who slowly wheeled backwards in his chair.

"Um…I plead the fifth?" Steve said, wincing.

"Wise choice, Captain," Wes said through clenched teeth. "I thought _you_ of all people would understand what _confidential_ meant in context of keeping quiet, Mr. Military Hero."

Steve looked offended. "I didn't tell him anything about the Initiative! We were just discussing motorcycles and the fact that you're apparently a lot nicer at work than here."

Wes's eye twitched at the word _Initiative._ "You and I have a blues concert to make. Let's go, before we have any more _fun_ conversations."

"NO! Wait, come on, Steve, Captain, whatever the hell your name is, what do you guys _do_?" Travis pleaded. "I can't believe I had you _alone_ and I didn't know you worked at the same place! I could've actually gotten some answers! Who are you guys? Are you _really_ going to a blues lounge? Or you actually going on some top secret save the world mission?"

"Later, Travis. I will explain later," Wes said, pulling Steve from off his chair.

"You said that last time!" Travis said, fully aware he was whining and not caring one bit.

"Maybe you should tell him," Steve suggested. "He doesn't seem that bad. And pretty much everyone we know knows we belong to it. Look at Tony and Pepper!"

"Yeah! Listen to the guy! He's a Captain!" Travis said, jumping to his feet. "Please?"

"No one else has a secret identity to protect! You're the original, Stark can't keep his damned mouth shut even on national television, and the others are super secret government experiments or psychotic ninjas! I'm _normal_. I am ninety percent civilian!" Wes protested, steering Steve towards the door.

"Wait…Stark…Tony…Tony Stark? _Tony STARK?_ FREAKING _IRON MAN_?" Travis couldn't help the borderline girlish squeal. No, _manly_ squeal. Of pure _awesomeness_. "That means that…Captain Rogers…is _Captain__** America**_?"

"Oh my God, just _go_," Wes said, now shoving Steve. "Travis, _shut up_, and yes, I really will tell you all about it when I get back. Better yet, since Captain Big Mouth pretty much told you everything in less than a sentence, I'll introduce you. But not if you don't _shut the hell up_."

Travis slammed his mouth shut, miming zipping it shut and throwing away the key. "Mmm?"

"And sort out your paperwork!" Wes snapped, before the two of them were out the door.

As soon as Wes and Steve were out of sight, Travis jumped in the air, silently pumping his fist. _The Freaking __**Avengers**_! His partner was part of the _AVENGERS!_ Suddenly, he had good reason to finish his paperwork fiasco, because damn if he was going to give Wes an excuse not to let him meet the rest of the team.

Of course…now that he thought about it, he'd met all but one.

And in Travis's humble opinion – the best was _definitely_ saved for last.

CLCLCLCLCLCL

So. Thoughts? I kept getting interrupted while I was working, so I don't know how good it actually sounds. But I thought a nice break from the seriousness of "Demons" was in order. That one will hopefully be updated during the weekend, since I'll have the season finale on my mind until then. Read and review! And for everyone that's reviewed every chapter…you're my favorites. :-) Long reviews are the best! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Ok, WAAAAY longer delay than I expected. But I was split from my partner at work, and since he was a lot of the inspiration (along with the others I worked with) for my writing, I didn't have the heart to work in anything that reminded me of them. So. Here's my Christmas gift to fanfic, and I hope it's worth the wait. I like it, but it seems rushed, despite the 3000 word count. Happy Holidays, everyone!

* * *

"It's the freakin' _Valiant_!" Travis said. Actually, to be perfectly honest, it was more of a girlish squeal, like that of a Justin Bieber fan on YouTube.

Wes simply rolled his eyes, completely bored with the helicarrier staff around him. "Yes, Travis, it's the _Valiant_. The glass is thick, but I think I'm beginning to see some cracks. Tone it down."

Travis resorted to hopping up and down while grabbing onto Wes's shirt sleeve. He didn't care if he was acting like he was two years old. His partner was a part of the Avengers, and he was standing in the middle of the _Valiant's_ bridge. Well, off to one side, out of the way of everyone.

"Travis! Let _go_ of me," Wes growled, trying to wrench his arm away from his partner.

"Did I miss a memo? Is today bring your child to work day?" a tall, leggy brunette asked, her arms folded across her chest and a blue tooth attached to one ear.

"You can thank Steve for this, Agent Hill," Wes said coolly. "It's either him geek out here, or him geek out at the precinct where everyone else can hear and see him spouting off about the team."

"Stark is looking for you, by the way. He says to send you to the lab as soon as you'd arrived," Agent Hill informed, smirking.

Wes rolled his eyes. "What the hell does he want _now_?"

Agent Hill shrugged. "I'm sure I don't know. You're supposed to be his mentor. Maybe he needs some mentoring."

Travis glanced suspiciously between the two agents (his partner was a freaking S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!), trying to decipher what the hell that meant. "Mentor?" he echoed.

"Your partner didn't tell you? How he came to be a part of S.H.I.E.L.D?" Hill asked, smirk broadening into a Cheshire Cat grin. "He met Stark –"

"Another word, Agent Hill, and I'll see to it that Stark reprograms all of your media devices to play nothing but anime porn. Loudly. To the whole helicarrier," Wes said quietly. "And you know he will, just because it's evil and juvenile."

Agent Hill's mouth snapped shut, turning beet red as she did so.

"Thought so. Come on, Travis." Wes grabbed Travis by his elbow and led him towards he turbo lift they'd arrived in.

"What's she talking about? How _did_ you wind up in S.H.I.E.L.D? And why don't you want her to tell me?" Travis asked as Wes punched in a sequence of numbers, sending the lift down a couple floors.

"Because it's really not that interesting," Wes said. "Very boring."

"If it was just boring, you wouldn't care if anyone told me."

"It would bore me to death," Wes assured dryly as the lift doors opened into a laboratory that seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. It had technology that looked like it belonged on the _USS Enterprise_ instead of in modern day. Transparent Plexiglas monitor screens hung from the ceiling, while work benches were covered in spare parts and tools. Travis had to squash the impulse to touch everything because this was where _Iron Man_ worked. Surprisingly, it looked empty of human life.

"What would?" a voice piped up from the corner. A young, thin man, not nearly as impressive as any of the other team members, sat playing with one of the screens while scribbling down notes on a pad of paper balanced precariously on a knee. He glanced up as they walked in, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose from where they slid down. Thick, tousled hair stood up in every direction, and his thumbs were pushed through holes in his shirt sleeves. He looked barely out of high school, with baggy pants, barely tied sneakers, and a frame entirely too bendy, given the position he was sitting in and finding balance.

"Peter?" Wes said, obviously surprised as he spotted the young man. Then his whole face lit up. "Peter! What're you doing here, man? Don't you have finals this week?"

Peter smiled. "No, next week. New York public is a week off from California. So Tony invited me out the _Valiant_ 'cause I've only ever been to the tower in New York. Said if I really wanted to be part of the team, it was mandatory."

"So instead of studying, you're out with a billionaire playboy in LA," Wes said. Travis could tell he was trying to be disapproving, but whoever the hell this kid was, Wes obviously had a soft spot for.

Peter shrugged, unable to keep the smirk off his face. "You forgot the genius part," he said.

"And the philanthropist bit!"

"Good thing he left out modest too…"

Two more voices chimed in from beneath a piece of equipment in the back corner. Travis already met Bruce, but there…smudged with grease and looking like he'd almost singed his eyebrows off at some point in the recent past…was _the Man_ himself. Tony Stark. _The_ Tony Stark. Before Travis even managed a step in Tony's direction, however, Wes snagged the back of his jacket.

"Don't…you…_dare_," Wes growled. "He doesn't need any more ego boosting."

"You brought someone to the _Valiant_?" Tony asked, failing at hiding a smile. "I didn't even know you had friends in civilian land."

"He's not a friend; he's my partner at work. You know this, because you can't keep your grimy cyber fingers out of personnel files if your life depended on it." Wes gestured towards Travis. "Travis Marks, Tony Stark. Iron Man and bane of my existence on my weekends."

Tony went to offer Travis a blueberry from the vacuum sealed pack he normally carried with him in the lab, but pulled it back as he raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if he should have any more sugar. He looks like he's about to have a heart attack on the spot."

"Nice to see I don't even warrant a 'hey, who's that kid in the corner'," Peter said dryly, going back to his book.

"Aw, we feeling a little left out of the group, Spidey? Should we have a group hug?" Tony asked, making an exaggerated frown.

It wasn't until that moment that Travis realized why the kid looked like he was sitting in such an awkward position. He wasn't actually sitting on anything. He was actually sitting _on_ the wall Travis thought he was leaning against, stuck there like a…spider.

"Don't touch me," Peter warned, staying where he was. "Or I get webbing in your armor again."

Tony smiled at that, his arms going back down to his sides. "That was worse than gum. I still haven't figured out how you do that."

"That's because it has nothing to do with mechanics, computers or machines. It's chemistry and biology and intuition," Peter replied. "If you'd actually bothered to study the formula I gave you in relation to the arachnid-"

"NO spiders in the lab!" Tony yelled.

"Wait…you're an Avenger?" Travis asked, looking skeptically at Peter, who gave a little half wave. "Since when?"

"Since Tony and Bruce decided they wanted to adopt," Wes said.

"Ooo, someone is feeling snarky today," Tony said, and offered the blueberry bag to Wes, who surprisingly took one.

"Peter has been here ever since a SNAFU in New York required a bit of brains not mechanically inclined, but more towards bio technology and cross species genetics. And he's not official just yet, since he's not legally old enough to vote," Wes explained, smiling at the frown on Tony's face.

"I would've eventually figured it out," Tony sniffed indignantly.

Peter and Wes shared a skeptical look, before Peter turned back to Stark. "Oh? And exactly how is it that the decay rate algorithm works? And remind me again how I construct a bio material cable that can mimic the effects of spider webbing _and_ still degrade naturally over the course of an hour?"

"Don't you have homework?" Tony growled.

"I can multitask," Peter said.

Tony pointed to Bruce, who raised his eyebrows innocently. "What?"

"This is _your_ influence, Banner," Tony accused.

"Mine?" Bruce retorted. "How is it _mine_? Pretty sure this is the child your mother cursed you with."

"Thought you could escape me by not having any of your own," Peter said, extending fingers towards Tony as if they were claws. "Muwahahahahaha…"

Travis immediately felt slightly jealous at the easy banter between the four of them. This was his partner, his _friend_, who'd he known for close to a decade. And he hadn't been this relaxed, or this entertaining, since Pac-man died. How were these guys any different? Yeah, they were the Avengers, but…right now they were just friends. And they looked like better friends than Travis and Wes ever were.

"So how did you all meet? I mean, not you guys, 'cause that was all over the news with the crazy crap in New York, but how did Wes of all people become a member of S.H.I.E.L.D?" Travis asked. "He's not exactly social, and last I knew, he wasn't even all that fond of computers."

"Tony picked him," Peter said, earning a glare from Wes. "What?" he shrugged. "That's how he tells it."

"Is it now…" Wes said, turning back to Tony who smiled brilliantly. "Is that how you remember it?"

"Like your version is _so_ much better," Tony retorted, pulling back his bag of blueberries. "No more treats for you."

"Tony and I met in court actually," Wes said, mouth twitching in what Travis assumed would be a smile for his partner.

"You were his lawyer? Damn, man, I knew you were good, but I didn't think you were _that_ good," Travis whistled.

"No, no…I wasn't defending him. We weren't even part of the same case. We were part of sentencing," Wes explained.

That thought made Travis come to a screeching mental halt. "Wait…what?"

"Both of us were in the court house the same day, for the same reason, and wound up with the same punishment, even though it was two separate incidents," Wes said.

"Community service?" Travis suggested.

"Anger management," Tony said. "I hit a meter man's car with a golf club when he towed my Ferrari."

"And I may have punched another lawyer after a particularly bad case," Wes said. "Long story short, we were no better than you and I are in class, except neither of us wanted to be there and made no attempts to participate. So we sat in the back, MST3K'ing the entire meeting, and found out we actually had a few common interests."

"Like cars. Did you know that Wes here can take apart the engine of a Mach 1 almost as fast as I can, AND put it back together?" Tony said. "Thing of beauty."

"So you bonded with Iron Man over cars and anger management?" Travis asked.

"Tony wasn't Iron Man at the time. This was actually a year or two before all of it," Wes explained. "I think he only stayed friendly because he likes to annoy me. A little like you."

"You're just too fun to annoy," Tony quipped. "I wasn't willing to leave behind my favorite toy."

"Seriously?" Travis asked. "That's the whole story?"

"Sorry I'm not more of a damsel in distress," Wes said, rolling his eyes. "I told you it was a boring story."

"So you just what, slowly got into computers? Is that why you work here?"

"Wes isn't a computer tech," Peter said, raising an eyebrow as if it was the weirdest statement he could've said. "He's a _helicarrier_ tech."

"What's the difference?" Travis asked, and noted how Wes was suddenly looking everywhere except at the others while the base of his neck was flushing scarlet. Apparently there was a huge difference.

"He operates, repairs and maintains the engines and integrity of the ship," Bruce said, smiling, sounding as if he was reciting a job description from . "He only monitors it from a computer on the bridge."

"He helped _design_ the _Valiant_," Peter said. "Tony put in a good word for him when S.H.I.E.L.D was originally building it, and Tony thought they were doing it wrong."

"It looked horrible. Like an actual aircraft carrier but in the sky. Terrible plan. Hideous," Tony confirmed. "I wasn't about to have a super-secret base of operations in an ugly tin can with no windows." He shuddered at the thought. "They were going to have the Honda Civic equivalent in the air. I wanted nothing less than Maserati."

Travis let out an appreciative whistle. Tony Stark asked his partner to design the Avengers' home base? That was…_epic_. Which meant…the very room he was standing in, and all he'd seen, Wes had a hand in designing it? No wonder the man was OCD and a perfectionist. His version of a hobby was building and designing the most high tech piece of weaponry that the world had seen outside of the Iron Man suit.

"Enough oohing and awing over the ship," Tony said. "Let's go destroy something, shall we? This is the first time Wes has ever given me permission to do anything in 'his' town."

"I still have studying to do," Peter said idly, but there was no real protest in it. Wes grabbed him round the shoulder in a brotherly hug as he dragged him out of the door of the lab.

"Peter, you're at a doctorate level of education in high school. If you're studying, we've been grossly mislead about the state of public education in New York City," Wes said, Tony on the other side of the teenager.

"Time to misspend some youth," Tony agreed.

The lab door slid shut behind them, leaving Bruce and Travis in the lab alone.

"You're not going?" Travis asked curiously.

Bruce shook his head, settling his glasses down on the bridge of his nose again. "I still don't have quite the same level of confidence in the Other Guy that Tony does."

"So is that _really_ what happened to get Wes on the _Valiant_?" Travis asked.

"Mostly," Bruce said. "Why?"

"It just seems so…mundane."

Bruce shrugged. "Not everything is this epic story. Sometimes people are just really good friends through average circumstances."

A niggling thought struck Travis. "Wait…Tony and Wes were friends before Iron Man, right?"

Bruce nodded, holding up a miniscule piece of machinery in front of him as he fiddled him it.

"So they were friends before and after he was a prisoner in Afghanistan," Travis reasoned.

"Tony doesn't like to talk about it," Bruce said. "But yes, they were."

Travis thought for a moment. "There was a period right after we started working together that Wes suddenly disappeared on leave. Captain said it was a family emergency, but his wife was fine and he doesn't speak to his other family members. When he came back, he looked awful. Said he had a friend who was severely injured and didn't want to talk to anyone, and his girlfriend called him asking for help. I wonder…if that was Tony…"

Bruce sighed, putting down the bit of machinery. "I don't like prying into other's lives, mostly because I don't like when others interfere with mine. But if what you're wondering is if they're better friends than you two are, the answer is no. They're just a different kind. Tony and Wes have similar backgrounds, and after Tony changed, Wes was his only friend who stood by him afterwards when things went sideways. Besides Happy and Pepper, anyways. In case you haven't picked up on it, both of them have rather severe trust issues when it comes to others." Bruce cocked his head to the side. "Except when it comes to you. Wes trusts you, and Tony respects that."

Travis felt his ears turn red at the compliment.

"TRAVIS!"

"Looks like you're missed. Go have fun. Things are never dull when Tony is around." Bruce waved him out. "Steve might join you guys later."

Travis turned out of the lab just in time to hear the beginnings of an argument between Tony and Wes…and it sounded like it might be a good one.

"TONY! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THE FIGHTER!?"

"It's improved! I don't know what your complaint is."

"Why does it look like you had it on Pimp My Ride?! IS THAT LEOPARD PRINT!?"

"It's more us, don't you think?"

"I'm going to choke the life out of you…"

"Money on Wes!" Peter's voice yelled above the two others.

"What? Shut up, rookie, you're fired!"

"You can't fire me, this is a volunteer position!"

"You're still fired!"

"Travis! Where are you when I need you?! Operation Storm Front!"

Travis couldn't help the smile as he broke out on a run in the direction of the voices. Maybe they were looking for another volunteer?

* * *

Author's Note: And a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all! I apologize for the incredible delay, and the sort of mushy/odd spot to leave off. But I wanted to finish this, and between my partner and I being split up at work (and a rather serious bout of depression following) and a new work schedule AND finding out Common Law was cancelled, it was hard to get the motivation to write the last chapter of this. I apologize for the lack of Tony (I think there's a lack anyway), but there was so much other stuff going on that it seemed too much to keep adding more. So this is it! Ta da! Done! It was supposed to be a one shot…let me know what you think! Good? Bad? Indifferent? Send me a note and let me know!


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